The deeper we get into The Devil's Pit, the louder the music gets. It’s practically deafening by the time we get to the second door.
Neo swings the door open wide, and a wave of nostalgia nearly knocks me over. It’s been years since I’ve been here. Neo has made a few trips back here when he needed to lie low. Normally, it was after he nearly beat someone to death. At least in this place, it's what they want, well, mostly.
The place is packed. The bar is against the far-left side, leaving room for the dance floor to the right, and the ring in the dead center of the room.
Shouts and cheers mixed with a few boos fill the room as the current fighters do their thing.
“I'm going to need a drink if I'm gonna make it through this night without killing anyone,” Axel grumbles loud enough to be heard over the music and heads over to the bar.
Dean takes a look around, locking his eyes on the girls dancing in cages over the dance floor. “Fuck,” he sighs, shoving a hand through his hair, then follows after Axel.
“Let's go see whose ass I get to kick tonight,” Neo grins, rubbing his hands together excitedly before grabbing my arm and pulling me over to the DJ, who it turns out is also the fight coordinator.
The guy gives me and Neo a once over and nods in greeting. “What can I help you two with?” he asks.
“I want in on a fight tonight, anyone. I really don’t fucking care,” Neo insists.
“Can’t. Sorry. All booked up,” he says and goes back to looking at his phone. Neo snatches the guy's phone, tossing it on the ground, making it shatter, then grips the guy's shirt, picking him up off his chair and leveling their faces.
“Let me repeat myself. Get me on the fucking list for tonight, or I’ll gut you like a fish. Got it?” Neo’s smile is equal parts crazy and unsettling. The guy is pale and shaking now. He swallows hard and frantically nods his head.
“Just let me move a few things around,” the guy stammers. Neo lets the guy down, dropping him on his feet, and then helps the guy fix his shirt before patting him on the head like a dog.
“Good boy,” Neo praises him. “Now run along,” Neo says, giving him a shooing motion with his hands. The guy takes off, practically tripping over his feet to get away from him.
“I need a drink,” I chuckle.
“Not me,” Neo says, bouncing on the balls of his feet, checking the place out. “I need a clear head before I beat whatever poor sucker is placed in front of me.” He looks back at me with a grin, and we head off to find the others at the bar.
“You might wanna slow down there. We’ve only been here ten minutes, and you're already three glasses in,” I hear Dean say dryly, sipping a drink of his own.
“Because this place is full of women who would probably suck my cock if I ask nicely, but I can’t do shit!” Axel snaps, downing a shot.
“Look, I’m not gonna judge, but if you’re looking for something different than your old lady, here would be a good place to find it. No one’s gonna rat you out,” the bartender tells him with a grin.
Neo barks out a laugh. “Trust me, buddy, she would know. She has a way of knowing everything.”
“I don't have an old lady,” Axel mutters. “Just a crazy bitch who has me by the balls.”
“She’s not a bitch, but you got the crazy part right,” Neo says, then asks for a bottle of water.
“Hey there, handsome, you wanna dance?” a blonde-haired woman purrs, rubbing her fake tits against Neo. Neo backs up, raising his hands in the air as if something gross touched him.
“Back the fuck up,” he growls. “I have a woman, thank you very much. And there’s no way in hell I’d ever stray, so fuck off,” Neo growls. Damn, that was harsh, but it shows how dedicated he is to Harlow. If this was a few months ago, he would probably have her bent over the bar, fucking her without a care in the world.
“I’ll dance with you, baby,” Axel says, holding his hand out to the woman. Her eyes light up when she takes Axel in and gladly takes his hand. He pulls her into his lap, and she giggles as she starts to pat his chest.
“Well, hello, big boy,” she purrs.
“Axel, I don't think that's a good idea,” I warn.
“Good thing I'm not looking for your advice, brother,” he says, cocking a brow. “Plus, she said we can’t fuck anyone; she said nothing about dancing.”
“Damn, whoever the woman you’re talking about is, she sounds like she’s a real peach,” the bartender jokes.
“Yeah, that's not the word I would use to describe Queenie,” Axel snarks.
The woman on Axel's lap goes rigid; her eyes go wide, her face pales, and she looks like she's about to be sick.